


quantitative structure-activity relationship models

by purplelaterade



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:56:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4082290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplelaterade/pseuds/purplelaterade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If it turns out every last one of his friends has bailed and left him alone on a pseudo-date with Jemma, well, they’ll just all be dead to him. No big deal. // “we’re the only two people left who are single in our friendship group and they all decide to try and set us up with each other” AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	quantitative structure-activity relationship models

**Author's Note:**

> from Wikipedia: “Quantitative structure–activity relationship models (QSAR models) are regression or classification models used in the chemical and biological sciences and engineering…. QSAR regression models relate a set of “predictor” variables (X) to the potency of the response variable (Y), while classification QSAR models relate the predictor variables to a categorical value of the response variable.” 
> 
> also, there’s a bit of science-y dialogue at the end that i basically lifted nearly word for word from some PhD research opportunity that i found online because my area of science is geography and not biochem or engineering and i do not actually know what i’m talking about, please no one sue me for plagiarism or anything.

_gonna have 2 bail on the movie. Kara’s mom dropped by and we’re taking her out 2 dinner so we’re not gonna make it tonight. tell everyone we’re sorry._

Fitz has just barely texted back a quick “k” and closed out of the message when his phone buzzes and the screen lights up a second time.

_sorry m8, Bobbi and i got in a fight and i don’t want to be within 100 feet of that theater if she’s gonna be there. still on to stream the england vs. scotland match saturday morning, yeah?_

He shoots back with “yeah, and your team is going down,” then shoves his phone back into his pocket and sighs, trying not to feel too nervous. So Ward, Kara, and Hunter all cancelled. So what? That still left Bobbi, Trip, and Skye, and surely they’d get there before –

“Fitz!”

Fitz pulls a hand from his pocket to raise it in greeting as Jemma Simmons hurries toward him across the theater foyer, movie ticket clutched in one hand. “Hey, Simmons,” he calls to her, pointedly ignoring the fact that suddenly it feels as if the ocean has taken up residence in his stomach, with all the churning it’s doing.

“Sorry I’m a bit late,” she says when she reaches him, sounding slightly breathless, “there was a mix-up in the lab and I had to relabel all the samples and it was just….” She trails off, looking around the foyer curiously. “Is everyone else saving seats? I mean, I know Bobbi’s not coming, but….”

“What do you mean, ‘Bobbi’s not coming?’” Fitz asks.

“Well, she texted me as I was leaving the lab. Seems she’s had some sort of fight with Hunter again – didn’t want to get into the details, but she said she didn’t want to be around him right now.”

Fitz rakes a hand through his hair, slightly annoyed. “I got a text from Hunter saying pretty much the same thing not thirty seconds before you got here.”

“Oh dear.” Jemma pulls her phone from her purse, frowns at it. “Should we text one of them, do you think? Tell them the other’s not going to show?”

“Don’t bother,” Fitz says, shaking his head. “Movie starts in five minutes. Even with trailers they’d still probably miss the beginning. And Ward and Kara bailed as well. Something about Kara’s mum being in town.”

“So that just leaves Trip and Skye, then?”

“Yeah, and I haven’t heard from either of them since we all confirmed the movie time yesterday.”

“Well, I’m sure they’re just running a bit late. I noticed quite a bit of traffic coming from the direction of their place – probably they’re just stuck in it.”

“Could at least let us know,” Fitz grumbles.

Jemma loops her arm casually through his, and when she smiles up at him the irritation he’s feeling mostly dissipates, to be replaced with something else entirely. He’s still not quite used to the way she so often easily invades his personal space as if she belongs in it, even though she’s been doing it for several months now. “Well, we might as well go grab seats, and we can save a couple for Trip and Skye as well.” She nods in the direction of their theater. “Shall we?”

He allows himself to be led to the theater while she chats to him briefly about how her research is coming along, impressing himself with his ability to actually hold a conversation with her while she’s clinging to his arm. Really, it’s no big deal, is it, seeing a movie with a friend? Of course not, he reasons. Even if the girl checking their tickets is looking at them suspiciously, like she’s expecting someone to catch them making out in the back of the theater. Trip and Skye should be along soon anyway, and then it’ll be a group thing, and everything will be totally normal.

And if it turns out every last one of his friends has bailed and left him alone on a pseudo-date with Jemma, well, they’ll just all be dead to him. No big deal.

* * *

"So Kara, how's your mum doing?"

Fitz asks the question as he and Jemma approach with their lunches. They’re the last ones there, and judging by the various stages of completion everyone else’s lunches are in, they’ve all been there a while. Hunter and Bobbi are sitting next to each other, their spat apparently forgotten (or at least on hold), so the last two seats left are the two at the end of the table. Fitz slides into the one next to Kara; Jemma sits down on the other side of him, already diving into her lunch almost before she’s even in the seat.

Kara looks over at Fitz, her expression vaguely confused. "She's… probably fine? Why are you-"

"She's great," Ward cuts in. "We had a good time at dinner with her last night, didn't we, baby?"

"Right! Dinner,” Kara says quickly. The laugh that follows sounds forced. “Yeah, it was good to see her again."

"It's too bad we had to miss the movie, though.” Ward shrugs. “Sorry about that.”

"How _was_ the movie, by the way?" Hunter asks, looking over at Trip.

Trip shakes his head. "Don't look at me. Skye and I didn’t make it. We, uh-”

“We got _distracted_ ,” Skye says, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“C’mon girl, that was way more than just ‘distracted,’” Trip laughs. Skye elbows him, leaning around him to talk to Hunter.

“What, did you not go either?”

Hunter winces. “Well….”

“He was pissed at me, so like a big baby he completely skipped the movie because he thought I was going to be there,” Bobbi supplies, smirking at Hunter.

“You did the exact same thing!” he protests. Bobbi just shrugs, not seeming particularly bothered by this.

“Did _anyone_ go?” Skye asks, looking pointedly in the direction of Fitz and Jemma. Jemma’s busy with a mouthful of salad, so Fitz answers for both of them.

“We, uh, we went together. I mean, we were there. At the movie. Which you all _bailed on_.” He glares around at each of them in turn, remembering his resolve that they’re all dead to him now, but most of them just stare back at him impassively and Skye has the audacity to actually _grin_ in the face of what he is sure is his best withering stare. He has no _real_ reason to believe he was the victim of anything less than a series of unfortunate coincidences, and yet….

“Oh really?” Skye asks, in what is possibly the least surprised voice Fitz has ever heard in his life. “How did _that_ go?”

“The movie was fine,” Jemma says, taking a short break from inhaling her lunch the way she’s been doing for the past few minutes. “Fitz liked the monkey.”

“That monkey was a damn hero.”

“There were a myriad of biological improbabilities, of course, but as long as you allowed for a significant amount of suspension of disbelief in certain areas the rest of the movie was enjoyable enough.”

“That is the nerdiest movie review I have ever heard in my life.” Skye sounds almost impressed.

“Y’know, I’m kind of surprised you went, Jemma,” Trip says. “Haven’t you been really busy with your research? I know that Garrett guy who’s funding you has been sort of breathing down your neck.”

“Ah, well.” Jemma fidgets with her fork, pushing a cherry tomato around her boxed salad. “You know how it is, some days I’m in the lab sixteen hours at a time, other days the GH three-twenty-five formula can mostly look after itself….” She looks at her phone and jumps to her feet. “But today is not one of those days! I’ve got to check the samples in ten minutes.” She shoves what’s left of her lunch at Fitz, grabbing her bag from off the floor. “You can have the rest of this. I’ll see you later!” With a quick farewell squeeze of Fitz’s shoulder, she’s off.

“If this is her way of trying to get me to eat more vegetables, it’s not going to work,” Fitz says as soon as she’s out of earshot, eyeing the half-eaten salad in front of him before pushing it across the table to Trip. Trip shrugs and digs in.

“So after the movie,” Skye says, turning her attention back to Fitz, “you guys…?” Her eyebrows raise so high they nearly disappear into her hairline.

“Went home. It was late. Simmons had to be up early to get to the lab, and I had some blueprints I needed to do some more work on, so….”

Skye is looking at him in disbelief. “Wow. You guys are such _nerds_.”

“We’re PhD students.”

“Same thing,” Hunter chimes in.

“ _And_ you’re my age,” Skye says, “and I’m not even done with my bachelor’s yet, which makes you both like… nerd intensified.” She adds something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘and perfect for each other.’

“What was that?” Fitz asks.

“What?” Skye smiles innocently at him. “Nothing. Anyway, I’m glad you had a good time even though we all bailed. Trip and I have gotta go now; I’ve got class in about fifteen minutes.” She gets up from the table and tugs at Trip’s sleeve.

“Skye, I’m still eating,” Trip tells her, gesturing to Jemma’s abandoned salad.

Skye sighs. “Do you want to eat some gross salad, or do you want to make out behind the tech building before my data communications class?”

Trip drops the fork immediately. “Bye, guys,” he says, getting up to follow Skye out.

As they leave, Skye looks over her shoulder. “We’ll plan something else soon, yeah?” she calls back, catching Fitz’s eye and _winking_.

“What was _that_ about?” Fitz asks the remainder of the group, all of whom seem to suddenly come down with some sort of selective deafness. Kara and Ward start a slightly-too-loud conversation about some puppies they were looking at the previous week. Bobbi and Hunter, bizarrely, wind up involved in a shoving match that escalates until Hunter goes flying from his seat and Bobbi is doubled over laughing.

_Oh my god_ , Fitz realizes, as he looks around at the remainder of his friends and they all very obviously avoid his gaze. _Whatever is going on, they’re all in on it_.

He’s not sure what to expect, but he’s fairly certain he should be worried.

* * *

He finds Skye at her laptop, leans against the doorframe with his arms folded. “I know what you’re doing,” he says, voice low, even though the conversation and laughter coming from the other room is more than loud enough to drown him out.

Skye doesn’t look up. “Yeah, I’m ordering us some pizza. Good timing, actually – Jemma’s not, like, a vegetarian or anything, is she? I mean, I know she likes all that healthy crap like Trip does most of the time, but she’d be down for some pepperoni, right?”

“Don’t play dumb, Skye. I know you’re responsible for - for everyone bailing out of the movie last week and leaving me and Jemma there alone.”

“And if I am?” she asks, still focused more on the process of ordering pizza than on Fitz. “Oooh, they have chicken bacon ranch. That sounds suitably unhealthy. I’m gonna make Trip eat half of it.”

“So it _was_ you!”

She shakes her head. “Never said that. And anyway, what’s the big deal? So the two of you saw a movie together. Friends see movies together all the time. Unless there’s some reason you don’t want to be alone with her…?”

“That’s… it’s not…. Look, I know something is going on, and I know-”

“Fitz. Fitz, my friend.” Skye lets out a sigh, leaning back in her chair and looking at him for the first time. “Listen. Don’t worry. Everything is under control.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Look, do you want pizza or not? Because I am trying to order pizza here, and if you keep asking me all these non-pizza related questions and distracting me then my session is going to time out and I’m going to have to start all over again and it’s just going to take longer for the pizza to get here.”

“I just want to know what exactly you’re playing at. That’s all.”

Skye rolls her eyes at him. “Fine. Tuesday, three-thirty, the coffee place in the library on campus.”

“What?”

“Meet me then, we can talk about it. Now, shoo.” She waves a hand at him dismissively. With no other choice left to him, Fitz reluctantly turns to leave, but the sound of Skye’s voice stops him again. “Oh, and Fitz?”

He looks back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

Skye smirks. “Don’t think I don’t know _exactly_ why you chose Paranormal Activity for movie night tonight. Make sure you get a good seat next to Simmons, yeah?”

Fitz feels his face flush all the way up to the roots of his hair as Skye’s laughter follows him out of the room.

* * *

Three-twenty. Skye isn’t there yet, but Fitz is also a full ten minutes early, sitting at a table in the crowded library café with a small takeaway cup full of what he hesitates to call tea - but that’s what the menu called it, so he supposes it must be. She’s hardly known for being punctual, let alone early, so it was probably a mistake to show up when he did. At the very least, he probably should’ve brought along some work to do. But there’s nothing to be done about it now, so he waits, alternating between checking his phone and watching the door.

Three-thirty one. She’s officially late now, but again, it’s not exactly unusual behavior. Still, he shoots off a quick “you still coming?” text, even though she’d assured him that morning that she’d be there. No response. He takes a sip from his cup, pulls a face. Definitely not tea. Not any sort of proper tea, anyway.

Three-forty. The door to the café swings open and he looks up, expecting Skye. Instead, Jemma comes rushing in, looking frazzled, short hair windswept. Fitz feels his stomach do a flip. Her eyes sweep the café a couple times; when she finally notices Fitz, she heads in his direction, but she’s frowning.

“Fitz, have you seen Trip?” she asks as she reaches him, still looking around the café.

Fitz shakes his head. “No, I haven’t. Why?”

“Well, he asked me if I’d be willing to go over some things from his physiology class with him, and I was supposed to meet him here ten minutes ago, but you know how the lab’s been lately; I’ve only just gotten away. Oh, I hope he didn’t get tired of waiting and leave, I sent him a message saying I’d be a bit late….”

“I’ve been here for twenty minutes and I haven’t seen him come in or leave at all, so I don’t think that’s what happened.”

Jemma sighs. “I must’ve beat him here. Well, that’s a relief at least. Mind if I…?” She gestures to the empty seat across from Fitz.

“Oh! Yeah, no, go ahead, it’s… no one’s sitting there, so that’s fine if… if you sit there,” he finishes lamely, sliding his cup closer to him to give her room to set her stuff on the table.

“Maybe I’ll grab something while I’m waiting,” Jemma says, squinting to read the menu hanging on the other side of the café.

“I do not recommend the tea,” Fitz says, holding up his still nearly full cup.

Jemma laughs. “Noted. So, what are you doing here?”

“Well, I was supposed to be meeting Skye, but she’s now-” he checks the time, “-fifteen minutes late. I’m not sure she’s going to show up.”

Jemma gets a strange look on her face. “You were supposed to be meeting Skye?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah.”

“What?”

“No, it’s nothing, it’s just… you were supposed to be meeting Skye, and I was supposed to be meeting Trip, but neither of them are here. I think I know what’s going on.”

Realization crashes into Fitz and he feels the blood drain from his face. “Oh, that’s… I mean, I’m sure….”

“They probably just got _distracted_ again.” Jemma rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.

“Right,” Fitz agrees quickly, a rush of relief surging through him – she’s reached entirely the wrong conclusion, but he’s hardly about to correct her. “Right, that’s gotta be it.”

“Must be nice,” Jemma muses, almost to herself. When Fitz looks at her, she clarifies. “Having a relationship like that, you know? I mean, it’d be nice if they’d keep their hands off each other long enough to actually show up to things, but they’re sweet together, anyway. And they get on so well – I don’t think I’ve ever seen them in an actual fight. Bobbi and Hunter seem to be in a new argument every time I turn around. But they never break up for good, so I suppose they must have something worth sticking around for.”

“Yeah.” Fitz shifts uncomfortably, not particularly wanting to stay on the topic of relationships. “So… if Trip isn’t going to show up, what are you gonna do? Head back to the lab?”

“Actually….” She smiles at him, almost apologetically. “If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind if I stayed for a bit? I’ve hit a bit of a snag in the GH three-twenty-five analysis, and I think it might be helpful if I talked it through with someone.”

“Someone like who?” he asks. Jemma looks straight at him. “Oh. Me?”

“If that’s all right?” Her fingers curl around the strap of her purse, and she bites her lip, looking uncertain.

“No – I mean, yes, of course that’s all right,” Fitz rushes to reassure her. “I just – well, I don’t know how much help I’ll be; I’m not exactly a biochemist.”

“You don’t need to be,” she says, shaking her head. “I just need someone to bounce some ideas off of – a fresh set of ears will help, especially as you’re not entirely familiar with the project. Maybe you’ll notice something I’ve overlooked.”

“Yeah, great, no problem. That I can do.”

The smile Jemma gives him is one that Fitz is pretty sure he’d jump out of a plane for, if that’s what he had to do to see it. Luckily, talking science with her was just as effective, and quite a bit safer. He leans forward, folding his arms on top of the table.

“So,” he begins. “GH three-twenty-five. What seems to be the issue?”

* * *

En route to the engineering building the next afternoon, Fitz is suddenly accosted from behind by someone swinging a (fairly large) arm across his shoulders.

“What the hell-”

“Fitz!” Ward’s voice booms from somewhere above his left ear. Fitz flinches at the sound, trying to duck out from under his arm, but Ward’s got him in a hold so tight it’s nearly a headlock. “How was your date with Simmons yesterday?”

Fitz blanches, looking around as best he can with his currently limited mobility. No one is around that he knows, and no one seems to be paying them any real attention. Small miracles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he manages to get out, “and also, I can’t really breathe, so if you could just….”

“Oh, sorry.” Ward pulls his arm away and Fitz takes a deep breath, making a show of massaging his sore neck with one hand.

“As I was saying,” Fitz says in a low voice, once he’s managed to get his breathing back to normal, “I have no idea what ‘date’ you’re talking about.”

Ward’s face is all innocence. “Oh? Skye said something about you two getting coffee together or something, so naturally I just assumed….”

“Of course she did,” Fitz mutters. “Look, we bumped into each other at the café and talked about her research for bit. That’s all. I don’t know what Skye’s been filling everyone’s heads with lately, but things aren’t like that.”

“So you’re totally not into Simmons, then? Because, you know, if you are, you should really just tell her.”

Fitz scoffs, trying his best to look disdainful. “You sure you didn’t get some sort of head injury when you were training or something?”

“Whoa, hey.” Ward puts his hands up defensively. “Look, I was just asking. Do what you want; I don’t really care. If you say you’re not into her, I believe you.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Right. Good. Okay.” That was easier than expected. Fitz awkwardly jerks a thumb over his shoulder at the engineering building. “Well, if we’re done here, I should… probably get to the engineering lab.”

“Right. Hey, no hard feelings?”

“Nah, no hard feelings.” Fitz grins. At least that’s one person on his side.

* * *

“Skye! Ward!”

Fitz pounds on the door, with less force than he would like since he can _barely bloody move_. “I swear to god, one of you better open this door or I’ll-”

“I think it’s locked!” Ward’s voice comes from the other side of the door, slightly muffled.

“What do you mean, it’s _locked_?!”

“Sorry, sorry!” This time it’s Skye’s voice answering him. “I swear I didn’t even realize that closet _could_ lock-”

“Unlikely,” Fitz mutters.

“-there must be a key around here somewhere, give me a minute….”

“I could try and break the door down,” Fitz hears Ward offer.

“Yes!” Fitz shouts.

“Uh, _no_? You’d crush them both. Besides, are _you_ going to pay to repair my door? Because _I’m_ not going to pay to repair my door.”

“But it’d be way faster! What’s a little destruction in the name of efficiency?”

“Listen, Ward, I’m pretty sure my security deposit doesn’t cover my friend completely demolishing a closet door. Speed is not the issue here. They’ll be fine for a few minutes while I figure out where the key is.”

“Uh, hello? Guys?” Fitz pounds on the door again. “Speed kind of _is_ the issue here! Guys? _Guys_?” Fitz pounds on the door a couple more times, sighing when he realizes their bickering has trailed off and they’ve probably left the room. “This is unbelievable.”

He feels a hand on his shoulder suddenly and jumps – a mistake in the close quarters of the closet, since he loses his balance. Grasping blindly in the dark, he manages to grab onto a protruding coat hook before he can go toppling backwards into the person behind him.

“Sorry!” Jemma squeaks, trying her best to help steady him.

“Not your fault; you just startled me, is all.”

There’s no real room for either of them to move much from their current positions, so they stay like that for a moment, Jemma’s hands resting lightly on his back as if to keep him from falling again. In the dark, he’s more aware than usual of all the points of contact between them, and he can feel her breath on the back of his neck. It’s making being trapped in such a confined area even more inconvenient; he thanks every power he can think of that he’s stuck facing the closet door instead of facing Jemma, because the situation is awkward enough already.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“You mean aside from being stuck in a closet?”

“Yes, apart from that.”

“I’m fine, why?”

“You just seem like you’re breathing a little heavy,” Jemma frets. “You’re not claustrophobic or anything, are you?”

Fitz shakes his head before realizing Jemma probably can’t see that, even though she’s only inches away. “Nah. I mean, I don’t exactly _love_ being in small spaces, but I’m not claustrophobic as such.” His stomach growls, sounding louder than usual in the silence. “I am hungry, though.”

“Me too,” she says. He thinks he can hear a smile in her voice.

With a sigh, Fitz presses his forehead to the wood of the closet door. “I can’t believe Ward would do this,” he grumbles. “I have never felt so betrayed in all my life.”

“It was just a prank,” Jemma points out. “A stupid and somewhat ill-timed one, but I don’t think he realized we’d actually get locked in here.”

The words “didn’t he?” rise up, but he bites them back. He’s pretty sure – well, he’s most likely dead-on – that either Skye put Ward up to this or they planned it together, and if that’s the case then it’s not a huge leap to imagine _why_ they did it. And this after Ward making such a show of believing him about Simmons the other week. Unbelievable.

“I do hope they find the key soon, though,” Jemma continues, sounding worried.

“The lab again?” Fitz guesses.

“Yes, well… it’s nothing that requires my presence specifically, but there are a few cultures that need to be moved to a different incubator soon, and it probably wouldn’t hurt to do some quick observations. I might’ve asked you to do it if I couldn’t be there myself, but….”

“I know you’ve gone over the project with me a few times, but I’m still hardly a biochemist,” Fitz reminds her.

“Yes, but you’re very capable,” Jemma says, almost absently, and Fitz is grateful that the dark hides the way he’s sure his face is flushing. “I’ve got a lab assistant, but he’s a bit….”

“Rubbish?” Fitz supplies.

“That’s a little harsh. But he’s not very good, yes. Certainly I don’t really trust him to carry out tasks without my direct supervision.”

“Well, if you ever need an extra pair of hands in the lab, let me know,” Fitz says, trying to sound casual.

“Don’t make offers like that; I may just take you up on them.”

“Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. Although,” he amends, “no working with dead things. I don’t really do dead things.”

Jemma laughs. “That sounds fair. And, likewise, if you ever need help with a design or anything-”

“You don’t have to offer just to be polite, Simmons. I know you’re far busier than I am, especially with all the pressure about your funding.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it,” she echoes.

There’s a moment of silence; Fitz presses his ear to the door, hoping to hear either Skye or Ward coming for them, but no such luck.

“You know,” Jemma begins, hesitantly, “I realize we’re both busy with our own projects right now, but maybe after we’re done we could… I mean, there are quite a lot of research opportunities out there that combine things like nanotechnology and molecular biology and given our respective fields of expertise, I think they would be ideal for a joint effort. And if we could get the funding, we’d probably get quite a nice lab out of the deal.”

“You had me at ‘research,’” Fitz says, and is rewarded with a laugh.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Fitz runs his hands along the closet door and groans in frustration. “There’s nothing on this side at all – just a bit of metal where the lock and the doorknob are on the other side of the door. It’s like they didn’t expect anyone to ever need to open it from this side.”

“In fairness, they probably didn’t,” Jemma points out.

“Still, you’d think they would’ve at least allowed for the _possibility_ that someone might wind up stuck in here somehow.” He feels along the crack between the door and the doorframe, thinking. “Although… Jemma, have you got your wallet on you?”

“It’s in my pocket, why?”

“Have you got any cards in there you don’t need anymore? Empty gift cards, that sort of thing?”

“You can pick the lock?” Jemma asks.

“Well, I’ve not ever done it before, but it’s just a closet lock, which I’m sure isn’t too complex. I’ve got a basic idea of the concept and how a lock works, so I may be able to swing it.” He decides not to add _plus, I’m a genius, so how difficult can it really be?_ even if it’s true.

Behind him, Jemma shifts, presumably trying to pull her wallet from her pocket; Fitz tries not to wince when she accidentally rams an elbow into his spine. “Sorry!” she apologizes, and then a second later, “Got it!”

“I know it’s dark, but try and find something you don’t need, just in case the card doesn’t make it through. I’ll be careful, but I can’t guarantee anything.”

“Right.”

After a moment, Jemma taps him on the shoulder, and Fitz reaches back to take the card from her. He carefully slides the card in between the door and the frame, just below the doorjamb, and attempts to jimmy it into position.

“All right, if this works, the door’s going to pop open all of a sudden,” he warns, “so just try not to-”

“Found it!”

The door swings open from the other side with Fitz still leaning against it, and he pitches forward, shoulder-first, landing on the ground at Ward and Skye’s feet in an undignified sprawl.

“Fitz!” Jemma kneels at his side, a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Nothing’s broken,” he groans, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. “Except maybe my dignity.” To add insult to injury, Ward reaches down and hauls him to his feet as if he weighs next to nothing. Fitz rubs his shoulder and glares at both Ward and Skye in turn.

“We found the key,” Skye says unnecessarily, holding up a small silver strip of metal that bears more resemblance to a nail file than an actual key.

“Yep, got that bit, thanks.”

Jemma’s already hurriedly collecting her things from around Trip and Skye’s apartment. “I think I can make it to the lab in time if I run,” she says, pulling on a navy blue cardigan and slinging her purse over her shoulder.

“I can give you a ride,” Fitz offers.

“Thanks, but the traffic at this time is always awful. It’ll probably be faster on foot,” she says, and, well, he can’t really argue with that, so he just nods as she heads for the door.

“Jemma, wait!”

She turns. “Yeah?”

Fitz grabs her jacket from off the back of a chair and holds it up. She smiles gratefully as he brings it over to her.

“I almost had the door open, you know,” he can’t help telling her as she puts the jacket on. “Just a few more seconds and I probably would’ve gotten it.”

“I know, Fitz.” She slips on her boots, then tugs on his collar at the same time as she pushes up onto her toes in order to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re the hero,” she says, and then she’s out the door, a shocked Fitz left in her wake.

“I’d say that went pretty well, all things considered,” he hears Skye say from somewhere behind him, and he’s not even sure he can find it in him to argue with her.

* * *

Jemma takes Fitz up on his offer once, which surprises him, and then again, which surprises him even more considering he’d very nearly knocked over a beaker the first time (a careless mistake he thankfully never repeats). Within what feels like no time at all they get into a routine – Fitz in Jemma’s lab most days (well, technically it’s the biochem lab, but he’s never there without her and the two are inextricably linked in his mind), helping her out when she needs it, quietly working on his own designs when she doesn’t. Sometimes, during rare moments with nothing to do, she’ll perch on the edge of the desk or stand behind him and watch while he sketches. He tries not to be intimidated by her scrutiny. Occasionally she’ll lean over, pointing a slender finger at one of the designs, and ask him to explain to her how it works.

When he explains it to her, she listens, really listens, and there’s nowhere he’d rather be.

* * *

“Fitz? It’s late, you should go home.”

Jemma’s rubbing her eyes, hands under her safety goggles. They’re the last two left for the night, and the lab is near-silent save for the soft hum of equipment and the scratching of Fitz’s pencil.

“I don’t mind staying, if you don’t mind the company,” he says.

“Of course I don’t mind, it’s just past midnight already and I’ve got to be here for another hour, and then probably another twenty minutes or so after that while I finish up my recordings, and there’s not really anything at all for you to do….”

He waves his sketchbook at her. “I’ve got this. And in any case, you look like you’re about to fall asleep standing up, so it looks like actually I’ve got the very important job of making sure Jemma Simmons doesn’t pass out on the floor of the lab.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but it turns into a yawn, which she tries to stifle and fails. Fitz pulls out the chair next to him. “Sit down for a minute, at least. You look absolutely shattered.”

“ _Thanks_ ,” she mutters, but takes the chair anyway.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just, y’know, you could use some sleep.”

“No, I know. I’m sorry, I’m just….”

“Shattered?” Fitz supplies, and Jemma laughs.

“What about you? Aren’t you tired?” she asks.

“Well, I’ve not been up since five A.M., so I’m doing all right, comparatively.”

“Four A.M.” Jemma drops her head into her hands. “I’ve been up since four A.M.”

“ _Jesus_ , Jemma.”

“I’ll be fine,” she insists, voice muffled by her palms. “Just let me sit here for a minute.”

She obviously needs the rest, however brief, so he turns his attention back to his sketchbook, keeping one eye on the clock. He doesn’t relish the thought of having to be the one to nudge her back into consciousness when she really should be asleep, but a few minutes of oversleeping could mean multiple sleepless nights making up for whatever time-sensitive thing she’s worried about tonight.

“Fitz? Why aren’t you ever in the engineering lab anymore?”

The question catches him off-guard; he’d assumed she was dozing. “I like it better here.” It’s the most honest answer he could’ve given.

She lifts her head enough to look up at him. “Thinking about becoming a biochemist?” There’s a teasing edge to her voice.

“It’s not the biochem I like, it’s….” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “The guys in the engineering lab are great, but we’re not really… y’know. Friends or anything.”

“Oh.”

“ _We’re_ friends, right?” he asks after a moment’s silence, suddenly worried he may have misjudged.

“Of _course_ we are.” He’s pretty sure that if she wasn’t so tired, she’d have rolled her eyes at him.

“Right. Good. I thought so. I was just… making sure.”

It was still something he was getting used to, the whole ‘having friends’ thing; he’d mostly been on his own until he’d come there to do his PhD and Skye had seen him eating pizza alone in the student union. “You can’t eat your pizza alone; it’s too sad,” Skye had said, and he could tell she probably knew something about how it felt to eat alone. So he’d let her drag him over to a table full of people and plop him down in the empty seat next to who turned out to be probably the only other person his age doing a PhD in the entire school. Suddenly, miraculously, he’d had friends.

“Anyone who’s willing to sit with me in an empty lab until… oh God, almost one A.M. is a friend in my book.” Her head drops again, this time onto his shoulder. “I’ll be so glad when this is over,” she says, voice thick with sleep. “Then we can find something to work on together and we’ll _both_ be in the lab until ungodly hours of the morning.”

“In fairness, I _am_ in the lab too.”

“Yes, but I’m the one doing all the work.” She shifts, curling against him to get more comfortable. “Now, shhh. Give me five minutes.”

He gives her ten.

* * *

The first draft of her report is finished three weeks later; Fitz gets an excited call from her in the middle of the night as soon as she types the final word. For an impromptu celebration Skye and Bobbi decide to throw a party; Skye insists that “it’s almost finals week for the rest of us and I think we all need to get smashed.” It’s the first real social event Jemma’s been able to attend in ages, so she readily accepts, and convinces Fitz to come along with her (it didn’t take much; he’d go just about anywhere if she was going to be there).

By the time they make it out to Bobbi’s the party is already in full swing. Bobbi’s apartment smells vaguely like a bar, and while they’ve kept the guest list relatively small (Skye had wanted to invite about half the university, but Bobbi had talked her down, citing not wanting to deal with extensive property damage) there are still a handful of people Fitz and Jemma don’t know. Hunter and Bobbi are shotgunning beers in the living room with a well-built black man Fitz has seen around the engineering building, and Skye’s talking to a guy with sandy hair that neither of them recognizes. She breaks off the conversation as soon as she sees them, weaving through the crowd in their direction.

“Fitzsimmons!” Skye shouts as she reaches them, smile wide; they give each other a look, exasperation tempered with affection. She’s halfway to drunk already. “Come, come with me.” She plucks at their sleeves, and they shrug and follow her. The three of them make their way over to the guy she’d been talking to when they arrived, and she presents them with a flourish.

“Fitzsimmons, this is Lincoln. Lincoln, Fitzsimmons.”

They both raise a hand in greeting. Lincoln looks back and forth between the two of them, bemused. “Fitzsimmons?”

“Fitz.”

“Simmons.”

They point at each other. Lincoln nods slowly; Skye looks like Christmas has come early. She reaches for a couple of shot glasses on the counter that are filled with some sort of amber liquid and passes them to Fitz and Jemma.

“Here, try this.”

They look at the drinks, each other, then at Skye. “Why?” Jemma asks.

“What do you mean, ‘why?’ Because it’s a party – a party in part for _you_ , I might add – and because my friend here made it, and he makes excellent drinks. It’s a gift.” She claps Lincoln on the shoulder.

“What’s in it?” Fitz asks.

“Alcohol, Fitz. Alcohol.”

“Yes, but what _kind_ of _-_ ”

“Oh my god, Fitz, will you just drink it, already?”

He and Jemma exchange looks, and she shrugs and lifts the glass to her lips so he follows suit, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. There’s a split second before the drink slams into him like a jolt and he winces; it leaves him almost winded. By the time he opens his eyes, Skye is already holding two more glasses of the stuff.

“Good, right?” She grins, passing them the new shot glasses. “Take these, I’m gonna go find Trip, make sure he’s not having like… a muscle-off with Ward or something.” She grabs a third glass from the counter and leaves.

“A ‘muscle-off?’” Fitz echoes. Jemma, in the midst of downing the second shot, doesn’t respond. Fitz downs his as well.

* * *

A half-hour and several shots later (Lincoln turns out to have quite a repertoire, and also turns out to be an electrical engineering major, which gives he and Fitz something to talk about though Lincoln cheerfully admits that most of Fitz’s PhD work goes way over his head) and Jemma is swaying on her feet just enough that Fitz decides they should sit down, grabbing a couple empty chairs against the living room wall. He hasn’t quite hit drunk yet, but the edges of his vision are a little bit brighter than normal, so he’s probably on his way if he doesn’t slow down a little.

Skye and Trip have started singing. The absence of an actual karaoke machine doesn’t seem to have deterred them; they use the radio and hairbrushes stolen from Bobbi’s bathroom as substitutes. For how drunk they both already are, they’re not bad singers, except that Trip occasionally forgets what they’re doing and kisses Skye in the middle of a verse.

“Gross, isn’t it?”

Bobbi appears next to Fitz and Jemma, handing them both beers. Fitz takes his and cracks it open automatically, before he has a chance to really think about it, but now that it’s open he figures he may as well drink it.

“I think it’s sweet,” Jemma disagrees.

“Exactly.” Bobbi laughs, taking a long drink from her own beer. “They’re _too_ in love. It’s enough to make you sick.”

“Not big on the whole romance thing, then?” Fitz says.

Bobbi shrugs. “Hunter and I met and hooked up at a party – wasn’t much different than this one, actually, except it wasn’t at my apartment. We’ve been together since then. Well, more or less. So no, the schmoopy romance thing doesn’t exactly factor in.” She gives them both a side glance. “Wasn’t a bad way to do things, to be honest. Just go for it. Get it out of the way. You sidestep all the awkward in-between stuff – feelings, first dates, that sort of thing. Much less messy.”

“But why did you stay together, then?” Jemma asks. “If you didn’t even know each other, why didn’t you just go your separate ways after you hooked up?”

“Things are fun,” Bobbi replies, after a moment’s thought. “Usually. In the way a roller coaster is usually fun, anyway.”

“And that’s enough?”

Bobbi finishes the rest of her beer and stands up. “It’s enough that I’d take a bullet for him if I had to,” she says, and though her tone is casual to the point of flippancy her voice is softer than Fitz ever remembers hearing it. She looks down at the two of them, pointing a finger at one and then the other. “And if you two ever repeat that anywhere he can hear you, I will kill you both and no one will ever find the bodies.”

“The scary thing is,” Fitz whispers to Jemma, after Bobbi leaves and he’s sure she’s out of earshot, “I one-hundred percent believe her.”

“About Hunter, or about killing us?”

“Both, actually.”

Jemma laughs and leans against him. “So do I.”

* * *

As the party winds down, Fitz carefully shakes Jemma awake. Almost everyone is gone, except their little group: Ward and Kara are on the couch having some sort of philosophical debate (Fitz catches snippets of it here and there and he’s pretty sure they’re the only ones who have any idea what they’re talking about), Skye is on the floor with her head in Trip’s lap and singing the chorus of the Piña Colada song over and over, and Bobbi and Hunter have fucked off somewhere (probably to Bobbi’s room, which Fitz doesn’t want to think too hard about). Jemma stirs and stretches, looking around.

“Oh, is the party over?” she asks.

“More or less.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“Not long, actually. You drifted off right about the time Trip and Skye were starting Uptown Funk for the sixth time. By eight people decided they were about done and started to leave. That was probably twenty minutes ago.”

“Mmm.” She lays back against Fitz’s shoulder for a moment. “I should probably go soon, too.”

“Bobbi said to tell you that you could crash on her couch, if you wanted.”

“That’s nice of her, but I’m quite looking forward to getting a full night of sleep in my own bed. I don’t even have to set an alarm for tomorrow morning.”

“Will you be all right to drive, or do you want me to take you?”

Jemma gets to her feet, takes a few experimental steps. “I’m fine. Besides, I haven’t had anything since that beer Bobbi gave me, and that was some time ago. My liver should’ve metabolized the bulk of the alcohol by now.”

“Who am I to argue with biology?” Fitz laughs and gets up to walk her to the door, at least.

“Oh, by the way,” she says, spinning to face him as they reach the door (she doesn’t lose her balance, so he takes it as a good sign she’s not too drunk), “I was going to tell you about this earlier, but Skye got so excited about the party planning that I sort of forgot – I know it’s early yet, but I was looking around a bit and there’s a research opportunity dealing with polymer nanoparticles, using them as a delivery method for anti-inflammatory drugs and that sort of thing. No idea if you’re interested, but it _does_ combine nanotechnology engineering and biochem, so I thought maybe….”

“No, yeah, that sounds great actually. Good find.”

“And we’d get to use the really state-of-the-art lab facilities, with the private labs – would’ve made the last nine months or so of my life much easier if I’d had access to _those_ , but _no_ , it was always ‘the biochem lab’s got everything you need, Jemma-’”

“Even better,” Fitz cuts in.

“Good. Well, I’ll put in an inquiry in the morning, see if they’re even willing to consider accepting two people. It’s a bit unorthodox, but I think given our respective backgrounds and the focus of the study they might be open to it. And… think about it, Fitz! We could get our own lab!”

“Yeah.” And then, because he _is_ thinking about it, and he’s thinking about all the late nights he spent watching her work in the biochem lab, and about Bobbi’s ‘just go for it’ and the time Jemma kissed him on the cheek near Skye’s front door and the fact that his liver has probably metabolized just enough of the alcohol to leave him clearheaded but with some of the specific type of bravery that comes with drinking, he leans down just enough to kiss her as she beams up at him.

For her part, she responds almost immediately, grabbing a fistful of his cardigan with one hand and running her other hand through his curls. He has just enough presence of mind to note that her lips are as soft as he remembered them being and she smells like vanilla and that beer Bobbi gave them and he’s kissing _Jemma Simmons_ and oh shit, he’s _kissing_ Jemma Simmons-

He breaks off suddenly, pulling out of Jemma’s grasp, scrambling in the dim light to dig his shoes out of the pile near the door (he thinks they’re his, anyway; they might be Hunter’s, but if they are he’ll worry about that later). “I should go,” he manages to get out, moving past her and out the door before she can react.

“Fitz!” he hears her call after him, but he’s already halfway to his car and he doesn’t look back.

* * *

The next morning Fitz feels just under the weather enough to write the day off as a hangover, even though he’s not sure the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach can be entirely attributed to alcohol (the headache lingering just behind his eyes, though, probably can). He turns off his phone and spends the day in bed, alternately sleeping and watching old _Doctor Who_ episodes. Once he thinks he hears a knock at the door, but he ignores it and it eventually stops.

At no point does he allow himself to think about Skye’s party – a difficult feat when he’s popping ibuprofen every few hours to deal with the effects, but he manages it.

By the day after he’s much better, at least physically, and he keeps busy to keep from thinking, heading to the engineering lab early and putting together several different prototypes based on the sketches he’s been working on. He does so well at working on autopilot, in fact, that it’s not until he’s about fifteen feet from his usual lunch table, tray in hand, that he realizes where he is. There’s a moment when he considers turning around and walking the other direction, but then-

“Fitz!”

Skye sees him and waves him over, and he knows if he bolts now everyone is going to be suspicious, so he trudges to the table, taking his usual seat next to Jemma.

“Fitz,” she says, by way of greeting.

“Simmons,” he replies, and then that’s that, and he’s hoping that maybe they can just not talk about it ever and put it behind them.

But he’s never quite that lucky.

Five minutes later, Skye, who has been eyeing the two of them since Fitz sat down, finally shouts “OH MY GOD” so loudly that Kara jumps and everyone else looks at her.

“Skye?” Trip asks.

“Look,” she begins, “the school year ends in a few days, and I have been trying for the better part of it to get you two-” she points to Fitzsimmons, “-to kiss, and frankly I am done with subtlety. Do you know how much money I have lost because of you guys?”

Fitz feels his face burn as he focuses very intently on the pizza sitting in front of him. When he chances a glance at Jemma, he’s surprised to find she looks almost _amused_.

“Well, you could’ve just said as much,” she says casually. “Fitz kissed me at the party the other night.”

Fitz nearly chokes. “I was drunk,” he blurts.

“I certainly hope you _weren’t_ , considering that you drove home immediately afterwards – didn’t even let me get a word in. Though that might explain you wearing Hunter’s shoes.”

“Wait, _that’s_ where my shoes went? I’ve been looking for those!” Hunter says. Everyone ignores him, more interested in the unfolding drama.

“Fitz, did you kiss and run?” Ward teases.

“I… that’s….”

“Wait, they kissed at my apartment,” Bobbi says. “Does that mean I win?”

“But I threw the party, and they kissed during the party,” Skye protests.

“We _both_ threw the party – which, again, was hosted at my place.”

“Does that mean we split it or-”

“ _Guys_ ,” Jemma interrupts, and the table falls silent. “Will any of you win anything if I kiss Fitz right now?”

No one says anything. Jemma turns to Fitz, who is staring at her, astonished. “Fitz, may I kiss you?”

“Are you, I mean, is this a serious question, or are you just-”

“ _Fitz._ Yes or no?”

“Yes,” he says, and it comes out quicker than he intended but he can’t bring himself to care when Jemma Simmons is grabbing his tie and pulling him in. He can taste tomatoes and the salad dressing she uses and he thinks that this might be a much more effective way to get him to like vegetables.

“There,” Jemma says when they break. “I’m counting that as our real first kiss. The one at Bobbi’s doesn’t count because Fitz claims he was drunk.”

Through the slight haze that has settled over his brain, Fitz picks out a couple of words from what Jemma has said. “Wait. _First_ kiss? As in, potentially there will be subsequent kisses?”

She doesn’t say anything, but Fitz sees the corner of her mouth quirk upwards, and one of her hands finds his knee under the table.

Skye lets out a whoop and Fitz is glad his face probably can’t get any redder than it already is. “I can’t believe I just saw that with my own two eyes,” Skye says. “I can’t believe that is a thing that I witnessed. I was giving up hope. Do you know how long I have been trying to get you two to do that?”

“Since you made everyone bail on us at the movie theater?” Fitz guesses.

Skye rolls her eyes. “ _Please_. Try since about three months before that. That was just the first time you actually noticed. You’re the slowest geniuses ever, I swear. I can’t believe it took that long for you two to kiss each other on the mouth.”

“It took you a year and a half to kiss me,” Trip points out.

“That’s because I was waiting for _you_ to kiss _me_ , and once I realized that wasn’t going to happen I finally took matters into my own hands. And I didn’t have the _benefit_ of well-meaning friends who were just trying to look out for my _best interests_.”

“By locking us in a closet,” Fitz grumbles.

“And now we can go on quadruple dates, so it all worked out in the end,” Skye says, completely unashamed.

“They’ve always been quadruple dates,” Trip laughs. “Fitzsimmons just didn’t realize it.”

“Wait,” Kara says, part of the conversation catching up with her. She turns to Skye. “You locked them in a _closet_?”

“Well, technically it was Ward who locked them in….”

* * *

**Four months later**

“So this is the lab?” Skye asks.

“This is the lab.”

“And you guys are researching what, again?” Hunter asks.

“Well,” Jemma begins, “our research primarily focuses on the design, synthesis and characterization of degradable polymers-”

“-as well as their use to generate nanoparticles for the delivery of anti-inflammatory phytochemicals-”

“-and extensive characterization of the manufactured nanoparticles in order to establish structure-activity relationships-”

“Oh my god, stop, stop.” Hunter waves his hands frantically, nearly smacking Ward in the process. “I regret asking that question, I’ll never do it again.”

Skye looks around. “Isn’t it a bit small for whatever crazy science you two are doing?”

The eight of them are crammed into the tiny space, taking up pretty much all the available room. Fitz shakes his head. “Well, it’s not exactly meant for eight people, is it? There’ll be plenty of room when it’s just us working.”

“Besides, we have access to all the bigger lab facilities, where they keep some of the more advanced equipment,” Jemma adds. “This is just for our private research.”

“I bet,” Bobbi says, eyebrows shooting up. Everyone else suppresses smiles. Fitz flushes.

“For your information, May and Coulson have been very clear about the lab rules-”

“May and Coulson?” Kara asks.

“Our supervisors,” Jemma explains.

“-and that includes… fraternization,” Fitz finishes.

“‘Fraternization?’” Skye echoes, making air quotes with her fingers. “ _Such_ a nerd.”

“All right, all right,” Jemma cuts in. “Everyone out. We’re not even technically supposed to be in here until tomorrow, but they gave us the keys a day early and, well, we figured it couldn’t hurt to show it off a bit, at least.”

The two of them herd the rest of their friends out; after the last person leaves, Jemma shuts the door, locking it from the inside.

“Jemma?”

“I was thinking,” she begins casually, looking at Fitz, “that since this lab isn’t technically ours until tomorrow, the rules re: fraternization in the lab don’t apply until tomorrow either, right?”

Fitz is fairly certain that rules don’t work like that. But he’s also fairly certain that the way Jemma is looking at him, they’re probably going to wind up breaking the fraternization rule more than once at any rate, so what does it matter if they break it right now?

And when he’s backed up against the lab table, Jemma’s mouth on his, her hands on his cheeks and his fingers in her hair, he can’t say he’s particularly fussed about the rule, anyway.


End file.
